


Crystal Music

by ninemoons42



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Creation, Dreams, M/M, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur secretly listens to a very famous piece of video game music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystal Music

  
title: Crystal Music  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
characters/pairings: Arthur. Arthur/Eames implied but not the focus [gasp, I know!]  
warnings: I inadvertently gave myself a nice little plot bunny while listening to [this YouTube upload](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-ypqrEu6z8), which compiles most of the versions of the Prelude, the famous title screen track from the Final Fantasy game series. I figured, of all the people who might listen to this stuff, who would be a surprising choice? Answer: Arthur. So, have some character study/introspection/dreamworld building, with bonus semi-recognizable character cameos thrown in.  
The presence of the friendly/gentle/GOOD Mal projection places this story in the same AU as [Gravity and the Defying Of](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/72816.html) \- also a songfic, and that one inspired by Wicked.  
disclaimer: I don't own the original story or the characters. Not making any profit, just playing in the sandbox.  
summary: Arthur secretly listens to a very famous piece of video game music.

  
Arthur has a secret.

This is, quite possibly, his last secret. It's something no one else knows. It's hidden even from the people who walk around in his subconscious, be they the people he tenuously refers to as "colleagues", or the projections who've decided to call his mind home.

Mal is one of those projections - the Mal who had smiled at him, the Mal who had fed him huge heaping bowls of coq au vin, the Mal who had proclaimed him James's first and closest godfather.

But she's not a secret, not any more. In the time since the Fischer job everyone Arthur has worked with has seen her: Ariadne, Yusuf, Saito.

[Saito has appointed himself their employer. Sometimes he calls them in to militarize his employees. Sometimes he asks them to use the dreams for creation - they've wound up midwifing a video game or two, an insanely successful TV drama series about a girl who dreamed only in terms of skyscrapers.

Arthur still has no idea why the Japanese loved that show so much.]

Eames knows, of course. He talks to that projection often, and they talk about Arthur, they talk about the world outside. Sometimes Eames tries to get this Mal to talk about Arthur's secrets.

Neither of them have ever even gotten close to this last one, though.

They're leaving for Kyoto in the morning, and everyone else has left, and Eames has  
been gone all day. All Arthur knows is that he's promised to bring home dinner.

He sets the PASIV for five minutes, washes his hands thoroughly, runs through the cannulation procedure. And then he presses the button and he lies back and dreams.

There is music, always, in his dreams. There is a tune that recurs, over and over, distant sweet notes drifting on the wind. A delicate breeze that runs through his hair. Arthur tilts his head back and holds his hands out to the sky. He's standing on a plateau, as always, and there are birdshapes flying through the brilliant blue sky.

He closes his eyes and begins to build, following the rhythm of that faraway song. Up and out, he thinks, and far below him the land folds slowly, and pushes itself upward. A castle appears, and then it's dwarfed by a series of towers, a forest of slender spires in glass and metal.

The towers sparkle in the diffused sunlight. Arthur thinks of, but does not create, the people living in and around the towers, the clusters of cottages surrounding the castle. Soldiers being drilled, and a female instructor, tiny and dark-haired, demonstrating some exotic martial art. Men in long capes, their hair spiked and long.

He thinks of guns that are also swords, of a sword that is also six other swords. He thinks of staves and of daggers.

He thinks of rainclouds and the sun in the same sky.

He thinks of a white hooded robe, and he thinks of a black witch's hat.

He thinks of a great airship, and for a moment he thinks about creating it and getting on, but he lets the idea go and the clouds above him fade into a light mist.

A long moment passes. And then - Arthur's fingers move, he gestures sharply - and some of the towers start collapsing. Distant crashes a harsh backbeat to the delicate song, and the placid plain below is wreathed in acrid smoke. The birdshapes scream and circle menacingly above him.

The kick is eight peals of thunder rumbling through the sky, a flash of distant lightning.

Arthur opens his eyes.

Eames is sitting next to him, and there are cartons of Chinese take-out at his feet. He's got the newspaper open, and he's reading the sports pages intently.

Arthur puts the PASIV back in order and daubs off the spot of blood on his wrist.

"Good dreams?" Eames asks.

"Fantasies," Arthur replies cryptically. He picks up one of the food cartons. "Kung Pao chicken, my favorite."

He eats, and he talks to Eames about the job, but somewhere in the back of his mind, the song is still playing.  



End file.
